The Immortal Queen

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “You could have died,” he snarls.

  “And what about you?” It’s odd, having a seething wall of muscle at my back and not considering killing him. I want to look him in the eye, but turning isn’t an option with my head still swimming.

  “You are the priority, Nic. The Veil craves a fresh soul and it doesn’t care whose—a mortal’s or a god’s.”

  “But it didn’t get any, not even Nahini’s horse. We beat it so I don’t understand why you are so upset.”

  His hands clench and unclench on his knees. The skin over his knuckles turns the palest white. “It was sheer luck that it gave up. Another minute and it would have ripped you apart.”

  “But it didn’t.” I huff. “You need to stop thinking of yourself as the redshirt.”

  “The what?” My reference confuses him.

  “Redshirt. It’s from Star Trek, a science fiction show. Sarah used to make me watch endless hours of it. When we get back, I’ll show you a few episodes to prove my point. The unfamiliar character in the red uniform is always sacrificed on the mission.” Though it pains me, I shift until I can see his face. “You aren’t disposable, Aiden. Not to me.”

  His eyes meet mine, green chips of emerald melting to a somewhat softer expression. Slowly, his hands relax.

  “Thank you, Nic.”

  “For saving you from your own noble streak?”

  He shakes his head. “The Veil wouldn’t have killed me. I was born a god, remember?”

  “Then there was no real danger.” No wonder he was angry that I’d stopped him.

  “I didn’t say that. It wouldn’t have torn my soul from my body, but it would have fed off my soul while I writhed in agony in an effort to repair itself. Like being eaten alive and never dying. Wishing for an end that wouldn’t come.”

  My lungs aren’t working right. I try to inhale, fail and make a second attempt. Better. “And you really wanted me to let you go to that?”

  “At the time? Yes.” One hand strokes down my hair. “Right now, I’m glad you didn’t.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just continues to caress my hair. I feel a little foolish, letting him pet me this way, but it feels too delicious to abandon just yet. “So, what exactly were you thanking me for earlier, if not for saving your life?”

  “For including me.”

  I turn to face him. When I raise one eyebrow he elaborates. “You didn’t ask or order me not to cross the Veil with you, even though I couldn’t see the souls. You stayed with me even though you had good reason not to bring me with you.”

  “I never even thought of it,” I admit. “Including you was instinctive.”

  “That’s what pleases me so much. You are beginning to rely on me.” Pride radiates from him.

  “Just because I’ve accepted the inevitable reality that you aren’t going to go away doesn’t mean I trust you or anything,” I snap.

  “Tell yourself that, my queen.” There is smugness lacing his every word, the fiend. “As often as you want.”

  FULL DARK FALLS YET there is still no sign of Nahini or anyone else.

  “What if something happened to her?” I can barely see Aiden in the dark. The moon isn’t up yet and a heavy cloak of clouds obscure the starlight. “She might not be able to get back to us. We can’t wait here forever.”

  “We won’t have to,” Aiden points to what I think is the east. “Someone’s coming.”

  He’s on his feet in the span of a heartbeat, with me positioned behind him. Blinding orange light flares as his fire sword once again materializes from his hands.

  “It might be Nahini returning.” The fire creates a small bubble around us but beyond it there is only blackness.

  Aiden doesn’t respond, his shoulders tense, his blade dancing in the breeze.

  I scramble to my feet, though I am weaponless, save for the magical gifts that I can’t control. Besides, using magic in Underhill is...tricky. The consequences are always murky, some good, some bad and a mortal magic wielder never knows what the price will be until after the deed is done. I might conjure another tornado, only to have Aiden sucked up into it, leaving me alone to face whatever is heading our way.

  I hear them as they draw closer, more than one set of feet pounding across the sand. The light from the flaming sword makes me feel as though Aiden and I are in a fishbowl. Whoever is coming our way is doing so in the darkness with no concern about stumbling on uneven ground. Only fey, like those of the Hunt, would be so sure footed.

  What appears no more than ten feet away isn’t beautiful and ethereal, like the fey that I have seen. They are hideous, lumpy creatures, with large knobby hands and feet, bulbous noses and flat dull eyes. Their skin tone is the color of wet granite and looks just about as impenetrable.

  “Trolls,” Aiden grumbles.

  Trolls? I want to ask what a cluster of trolls are doing on the beach. At least a dozen of them form a perfect an inescapable circle around us with deadly precision.

  One steps forward, a man with a long dark braid falling over one shoulder and a neatly trimmed goatee. He appears less dull witted than the others, but that’s not saying much. He studies Aiden’s stance, before dismissing him and looking down at me. “You are Nicneven, the Risen Queen of the Unseelie?”

  Risen Queen? A step up from Ice Bitch I guess.

  I hesitate, unsure if I should confirm my identity. If I say yes, will they try to kill us? But if I say no they might kill us anyway. And I have no doubt that they can, if they so desire. The shortest stands a head taller than Aiden and I get the impression that while they seem slow, it’s just a front to lure us into complacency. Not only am I in no shape to help Aiden fend them off, they exude a confidence that is much deadlier than the Valkyrie’s blind rage.

  I put my hand on Aiden’s back, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I am. Who are you?”

  “Galfin Dunn, commander of his majesty’s ground troops.” The troll has a nasal quality to his voice, like his sinuses are clogged. “He sensed your presence in his realm and dispatched us to find you as soon as the sun went down. He wishes to offer his hospitality.”

  “Hospitality,” I repeat the word, my voice giving it a suspicious edge.

  The trolls wait, holding all the cards. They appear unarmed, but again, my instincts scream that it’s only a deception.

  It’s most likely a trap. I hear Aiden’s voice in my head.

  It’s an effort to speak to him, to divert any attention away from the threat posed by the trolls. Wardon doesn’t have to lure us in though. He could have had these guys stuff us in sacks and drag us before him or kill us outright. So why bother to make the offer?

  He wants something. Aiden’s grip on his sword tightens.

  Look at us, we’re in no shape to take on these creatures. I don’t doubt for one second that they will kill us if we refuse their king’s “hospitality”.

  Aiden doesn’t respond, leaving the decision up to me.

  “We accept his majesty’s generous offer,” I say.

  Aiden’s sword sputters and then vanishes altogether, leaving us in the dark.

  It takes several moments for my eyes to adjust but when they do I see Galfin Dunn and one of the other trolls kneeling in the sand. “Climb aboard.”

  Aiden turns to look at me, his green eyes glowing in the dark. “Think I’ll run alongside.”

  Galfin Dunn scoffs. “No fey can keep up with a troll.”

  “Good thing I’m no fey,” Aiden says and shifts right out of his clothes.

  The trolls grumble and fall back as the black wolf with the glowing green eyes emerge. They shift their massive bodies as though unwilling to touch him. The second troll rises slowly and shies away from the massive black wolf, her eyes round with wariness.

  Aiden sweeps them all with an even gaze and then turns to face me, his expression completely wolfish. He knows he’s the greatest predator here and his smug satisfaction says now, they do, too.

  “Are we ready then?” I pick up Na
hini’s saddle bags and Aiden’s clothes before approaching the still kneeling but much more nervous seeming Galfin Dunn. “Don’t worry, he’s mostly housebroken.”

  Galfin Dunn rises up, perching me on his shoulder and then turns around. “Move out!” He shouts to the trolls around us.

  They take off into the dark night. They are fast, faster than most horses. Though gracelessly shaped, their long legs hold power that launches them with each step. To my right, I catch the gleam of green eyes as Aiden runs alongside them, his paws softer on the beach than the heavy thuds of their feet.

  I’ll make you pay for that. His voice rumbles in my mind.

  Wind tugs at my unbound hair and sea spray coats my skin. There is something so exhilarating about the momentum combined with the darkness that a thrill shoots down my spine. A laugh bubbles up as I meet Aiden’s gaze again. Something to look forward to.

  Where Sea Meets Sky

  The sun is just peaking over the horizon when the trolls slow their mad dash. All my aches and pains have returned in full force after hours of being jostled against Galfin Dunn’s unyielding body. Aiden was smart when he said he would rather run. It seems to me the troll leader does his best to jounce me about as much as possible.

  Who knew trolls could be so passive-aggressive?

  “There.” With his ape like arm sprinkled lightly with crisp brown hairs, Galfin Dunn points to a distant cliffside.

  “Where?” I ask, squinting. There is nothing up there that I can see other than a sheer drop-off.

  “Just wait for it.”

  I’m in no mood for waiting or guessing games but it’s not as though I have much choice in the matter. I stare at the spot he indicates as the sun continues to rise.

  Are they going to turn to stone, do you think? I ask the wolf. That was the legend about trolls, that if they were caught in the pure light of the sun, they would turn to stone.

  Aiden assesses the trolls. They don’t appear concerned. If they work for Wardon, they probably have some sort of mystical protection, at least in Underhill. I can’t see the Master of the Waves employing an army that can’t move during the day.

  A glint draws my attention. It’s not just the crashing waves, but a reflection as though the sunlight has been captured and reflected from glass.

  Perfectly transparent glass.

  Aiden comes up beside us. It’s completely camouflaged from view. Anyone who didn’t know it was here would go right past it.

  He’s right. The glint is coming from the uppermost level, a breezeway between two towers all made entirely of glass, beneath it, hewn from the cliff face, is the home of Wardon, Master of the Waves, who sits upon the Gray throne of the Seelie.

  A lone figure stands on that breezeway, his dark cloak flapping like a banner. He’s too far away to make out but all the hair on my arms rise as he lifts both his hands above his head and water fountains from the sea in hundred-foot-high spouts, like a geyser set in the middle of the ocean.

  No sooner does one jet crash down then another erupts, further out. It’s like a series of fireworks without the fire or the explosives, just water churning up high in a massive demonstration of power.

  He turns as two huge spouts erupt, almost like dolphins jumping into the air. Though I can’t see his face, I feel him smirking at me.

  He’s doing it on purpose. I am sure of it all the way down to my marrow. He’s out there to show off his considerable mad skills for my benefit. To impress me? To intimidate me?

  Either way, it sets my teeth on edge. I know better, especially in this place where I am a mortal—translation easily broken. A queen yes, but still a mortal amidst the forever young, all of whom have more practice with magic than I. But my temper takes over.

  The breeze off the sea is gentle. I delve into it, going deeper, yanking at the air that surrounds us and stirring it to life. There is a storm several miles offshore, one with no path to the land. I yank it toward me, toward him, the Master of the Waves who makes a tragic mistake and turns his back on the ocean. Of showing off and expecting me not to do the same.

  The trolls shout and point as they see it coming, the water rushing for their liege lord. He turns and in my mind’s eye, I can almost see the smug smile flash freezing on his arrogant face.

  The spouts combine in a wall of water, a tsunami that crashes over the top of his haughty head.

  The castle is well made, the glass solid enough to withstand the force of that water. And to his credit, the king holds his feet, doesn’t get sucked back into the sea with the tide. But he’s soaked to the skin and maybe it’s my imagination but I do believe I see steam coming out of his ears.

  The trolls are speechless, gawking at where their now saturated king drips atop his palace.

  I hope no one had a window open. Aiden comes up alongside me, bumping his body against my leg.

  My grin fades alongside my moment of satisfaction. The reality of what I’d just done sets in. I could have hurt someone. I wasn’t thinking. Just like with the tornado at the school.

  If he can’t protect his own gods damned castle from the sea, he shouldn’t have built it so close. Aiden’s tone is matter of fact. It’s good that he knows you aren’t helpless going in, Nic. He’s an arrogant ass and he was trying to intimidate you. You got the best of him, so this round goes to you.

  Our escort exchange looks and then Galfin Dunn sets me carefully on the ground. “We should bring you in through the front. His majesty will wish to see you.”

  “After he dries off,” one in the back mutters.

  There are sniggers amongst the rest of the lot, but Galfin Dunn shoots them a sharp look and they quiet.

  My knees almost buckle as I slide off and to the ground, but Aiden is there, transformed back into his human form to support my weight. A wave of something is crashing through me, same as the wave of water crashed over the palace.

  My hands ball into fists, nails sinking into my skin. There’s a pounding in my temples, my blood races thick and hot. Anger, though that’s much too mild a word for it.

  Rage.

  “Nic? What is it?” Aiden rubs my back in a slow, gentle manner.

  I take a deep breath in an effort to calm the surging wrath. All I can smell is his sage and cedarwood scent. He’s naked. I study him and the feelings morph, though are no less demanding.

  I want him, desperately.

  The price. I hiss mentally as shudders of need wrack my body.

  Hold on to me.

  I shake my head and push away. Who knows what I’ll do if I don’t put some distance between the two of us? Put some clothes on. Now.

  He gives me a hurt look, whether from the rebuff or the order I can’t tell, but he moves toward the saddle bags where I’d stashed his jeans and t-shirt.

  I close my eyes and swallow, trying to ignore my rampaging libido. Underhill, you sick bitch, why are you doing this to me?

  The walk isn’t far, but it stretches on for what feels like an eternity. I’m twitchy, vacillating between wanting to hit something and wanting to have my wicked way with Aiden in front of the trolls, Wardon and anyone else who might be looking.

  The sun rises higher. My body grows more and more tense, the emotions spilling through my bloodstream like an overfilled cup. Tension bunches the muscles in my shoulders and I vow not to use magic again unless it’s a life or death situation.

  I’m strung too tight, spoiling for a fight, a fuck, maybe both. Aiden casts me a couple of uneasy glances but keeps his distance. I grit my teeth, wanting to run, to scream. This is not the ideal way to meet one of the other royals.

  After what feels an age, we cross under the glass portcullis into the sandstone courtyard. The gate stands open, but is only wide enough to allow one troll through at a time. I pass through behind Galfin Dunn and try to distract myself by taking in the new surroundings.

  The castle itself is comprised of a series of seven buildings with the smoothness of sand sculptures. The twin towers connected by the glass w
alkway are the tallest, just high enough to peek above the sandstone cliffs. With the castle built on a peninsula one faces to the east, the other to the west. Beneath them are four squat buildings, maybe three stories high that branch out around the central courtyard. The seventh structure is a single story, longer than all the others combined and seems to be the congregating place for the trolls. There is no sign of masonry of any kind, almost as if the place is carved from one solid mountain of sand. With effort, I reach out and brush my finger along one wall. The texture is that of hard packed sand. Like Wardon sculpted his home to be a life sized sandcastle.

  That’s it, I realize with a start. That’s exactly what he’d done. Wardon must have used his water gifts to deposit enough sand for the buildings and borrowed enough fire from one of his courtiers to superheat the silica into glass. The entire structure is a testament to his abilities.

  And I thought a little storm would intimidate him?

  Tents are pitched around the open courtyard, the colorful fabrics flapping in the morning breeze. As Aiden said, the courtyard is dry and the fey and trolls within moving about their business don’t look as though the tsunami from moments before affected them at all. Wardon must have urged the water back out to sea before it could reach the lower levels.

  There are dozens of creatures in the courtyard. A few have set up what look like a sort of market place. Baskets of vegetables and fish, wheels of cheese and jugs in an assortment of sizes and shapes are on full display as well as jewelry made from shells and sea glass, bundles of driftwood and other odds and ends.

  Something about the picture strikes me as odd, but it takes me several moments to realize what it is. The sellers are fey, and the trolls are their customers, though I don’t see any sort of currency changing hands.

  A big man with iridescent scales not so different than some of his basket’s contents sidles up alongside the trolls in our group. “May I interest you in fresh oysters?” His voice is thick with the sounds of Dicken’s London streets.